


Pin

by Luninarie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Courting Rituals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luninarie/pseuds/Luninarie
Summary: 400 crowns? That was too expensive. But then Lambert knew he had to spend that money, even if he had other expenses to think of before heading to Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77
Collections: MaMooRoo BIKM Bingo





	Pin

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Broche](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041905) by [Luninarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luninarie/pseuds/Luninarie)



> For the BiKM Bingo (January 2021)  
> Prompt: Pin

“Four hundred crowns,” the merchant reiterated, hands on his hips, his face crumpled.

Lambert breathed through his nostrils, doing his best not to lose his temper. Even though this rascal rubbed him the wrong way, the witcher could not afford to make a scene right in the middle of the market. Witch hunters were patrolling the stalls, glaring in his direction with evil sneers. At the slightest pretext, they would fall on Lambert like hounds on their prey.

“Three hundred,” the witcher insisted and attempted a smile.

The merchant cleared his throat, adjusted his heavy, wooden-rimmed glasses, and crossed his arms.

“Why would I lower the price for  _ you _ ? If you don't take it, someone else will. That’s a real beauty. Four hundred crowns.”

Lambert could not help baring his teeth, a growl lodged deep in his throat. It was stronger than him. The merchant took a step back. A few paces away, a guard raised his head, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Three hundred and fifty,” Lambert tried in a tight voice.

Lambert needed that money. He still had to buy provisions before leaving for the north and Kaer Morhen. His inventory was miserable. His boots were screwed up, they would not last a week longer on the roads. He needed to stop by the gunsmith to try to save his gauntlets ... or buy a pair. Ideally, he would also need a cloak, his own sported more holes than cloth, and travel rations. Spending three hundred and fifty crowns now was madness.

The merchant pouted. He finally nodded, more to get rid of the witcher than anything. Faced with the facts - a truly unreasonable expense - Lambert counted the coins and handed them to the vendor who pocketed them with a frown. The coveted object was delicately wrapped in tissue paper and handed over to its buyer, who slipped the small package into his gambison, in a pocket over his heart.

Hours later, Lambert wondered if he had not made a big mistake. For a few crowns he had found a pair of sagging boots that would not last long, but still longer than the ones on his feet. In exchange for an escort for a frightened young noble woman, he had scavenged enough to bargain for a fluffy but thick cloak. But his good fortune had left him at the gunsmith’s. Lambert did not have enough money to fix his gauntlets, much less to get new ones. Vesemir would be sure to lecture him when he got to Kaer Morhen and Lambert hated that. As for the provisions he needed, he was going to have to settle for poor quality bread and dried meat.

When the rain began to fall in a cold downpour over the city, Lambert cursed his bad luck. After several hours, drenched and exhausted, he found in the suburbs a stinking but empty barn in which to rest. It was better than nothing. He patted the small package over his heart like a talisman.

A few weeks later, Lambert walked through Kaer Morhen's doors like a pauper. He was frozen, weakened, emaciated. His boots had failed him a long time ago, and finishing the journey through the valley barefoot had not been Lambert’s idea of fun. It had been years since he had left the Path for winter in such a state.

Eskel greeted him with worried looks, but not a word. Now was not the time to overwhelm Lambert with the obvious. He needed care, food and rest. Questions would wait. Vesemir had grumbled under his breath, but one look from Eskel had convinced him to wait his turn.

Eskel sat Lambert down at the large table in the hall, unceremoniously stripped him of his rags, rubbed him gently with a sponge soaked in hot water, and imposed a large bowl of broth on him. Then, as Lambert was falling asleep in his empty plate, Eskel carried him to his bedroom. Barely awake, Lambert had time to say to his brother: “In my jacket, a small parcel ...”.

Eskel dutifully retrieved it and put it on the bedside table.

Two days later Lambert woke up in the early afternoon. He was still exhausted, as if fatigue and misery had found a home in his bones. He drank the cold tea left for him and stretched on the furs, wondering if he had the strength to drag himself to the kitchen.

The door to his bedroom hissed open. Two worried faces appeared on the threshold: Geralt and Jaskier. They must have arrived while Lambert was sleeping.

“Sleeping Beauty is among us,” Geralt greeted.

“Fuck you,” Lambert replied with a smile.

“It’s good to see you,” Jaskier said softly.

“Come over here, nightingale,” Lambert said.

Jaskier, with his messy hair, rosy cheeks and big blue eyes, came and sat on the edge of the bed. Geralt chuckled softly but walked away, leaving the two men to reunite after a year apart.

Without giving himself time to hesitate, his cheeks burning, Lambert handed Jaskier the present he had bought weeks before, a folly that had made his life more difficult at the end of the season, a daring thought, a silent hope.

Jaskier gently unwrapped the tissue paper and unveiled a silver pin set with small aquamarines, an exquisite jewel depicting a wolf and a bird.

Lambert expected nothing in return. The surprised and delighted gleam in the young man's eyes was enough for him. His smile was worth every day of misery the witcher had endured.

When Jaskier leaned over to kiss him, Lambert thought his time had come, for his heart was about to explode.

And every day in the fortress, a delicate pin could be seen twinkling over Jaskier’s heart.


End file.
